


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

by kelly_chambliss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Christmas Eve, F/F, Female-Centric, Older Characters, POV Female Character, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_chambliss/pseuds/kelly_chambliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was shaping up to be the worst Christmas Eve of Poppy Pomfrey's memory. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Twas the Night Before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mindabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/gifts).



> This story was written for the 2015 Kinky Kristmas comment fest at Daily Deviant. Written for Mindabbles, who asked for "romance, desperate sex, cunnilingus, fingering." Warning -- unbeta'd and written after a generous dose of New Year's Eve champagne.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was the worst Christmas Eve in Poppy Pomfrey's memory, and she was speaking as someone who had survived the great dragon pox outbreak of Christmas, 1979, when she, Hagrid, and Aberforth Dumbledore had been the only ones fit enough to look after nearly two dozen sick students and staff members. 

Yes, that Christmas Eve had been dreadful, but Poppy was willing to swear that this one was worse: it was Christmas Eve spent with Dolores Umbridge.

Of course, this whole holiday season was mostly a write-off. Christmas spirit, indeed! The staff had been on edge this entire week, what with the near-death of Arthur Weasley from snake-bite and the terrifying story that Harry Potter had somehow seen the attack in his head. The teachers had all worked hard to keep this news from the students, but rumours -- most of them worse than the truth -- always spread like wildfire in a boarding school. The abrupt departure of Potter and all the Weasleys, several days before term ended, had not helped matters. 

The staff were all exhausted, but poor Minerva was practically run ragged, dealing with panic among the younger Gryffindors, and the logistics of making sure that all the departing students made it to the Hogwarts Express on time, and getting the quarterly academic reports ready for the Board of Governors. Albus dumped far too much work in his deputy, Poppy had always said so, and now Minerva was also having to cope with Umbridge's even more ridiculous demands as "High Inquisitor." 

Poppy was constantly hearing that sickening little-girl voice: _"Oh, Professor McGonagall, I think it would be lovely if each student's parent or guardian received a festive card in the name of the High Inquisitor and the Ministry, don't you? See to it, won't you?"_ and _"The House Elves mean well, but they are serving the children far too many rich desserts. Professor McGonagall, you must work with the elves to find a healthier December menu; we mustn't have too many upset tummies, must we?"_

And then tonight, of all nights, just as Christmas Eve dinner began -- _"Oh, Professor McGonagall, I know I said that I would distribute the school's donations at the Hogsmeade Boxing Day Fête, but I find that I won't be here after all. You can take my place, can't you? It's only for a few hours."_

The nerve! The absolute, utter, bloody _nerve_ of that woman! Dinner had been over for nearly an hour, and Poppy was still fuming, trying to distract herself by making an almighty clatter as she magically cleaned all the bedpans at once.

So successful was she in raising a row that she didn't hear Minerva enter the infirmary and call her name until Min was shouting.

"Poppy! _Poppy_!!! Enough. Keep that up, and you'll have to distribute all your headache potion at once."

Poppy stopped the din with a wave of her wand and turned to see Minerva standing near the doorway, bathed in the red-and-green fairy lights of the infirmary Christmas tree. The lights made a tartan-like pattern on Min's smooth, dark hair and her cheek, and Poppy's breath caught at the loveliness of her.

With two steps, Poppy reached her lover and pulled Minerva into a searing kiss. The hell with Dolores Umbridge; Poppy wasn't going to let that toad steal another minute of her holiday with Min.

Min smelled of cinnamon and spice, the scent of Christmas, and Poppy couldn't keep her hands off her. She was vaguely aware that she'd backed Minerva against the wall and was kissing and nipping her way down that long neck, forcing her knee between Minerva's legs.

"Mercy," Minerva gasped finally, breaking away for breath and offering that enticing smile that only Poppy ever saw, full of infinite promise and possibility. "You're on fire, Pops."

"Yes, I am," Poppy declared, pulling Minerva over to one of the pristine white beds, and drawing the bedcurtain wandlessly as they went. "On your back, missy," she said. "And hold on tight."

Minerva's eyes widened with surprise and desire.

"Poppy," she began, "surely we can't. . .not here. . ."

"Oh, yes, we can," said Poppy fiercely, kissing Min again and pressing her back onto the pillows. Only as she gripped the edge of Minerva's skirts in her hands did she realise that Min had transfigured the hospital bed into something wider, softer, and heaped with downy comforters. Poppy smiled as she pushed the skirts and their starched lacy petticoats above Min's knees; they both wanted this so much.

Poppy lost no time in vanishing Min's knickers, but she left the soft black cotton stockings where they were, held magically up mid-way along Min's lean, pale thighs. 

Minerva's back arched and she gasped as Poppy ran a finger between her legs and then replaced the finger with an agile tongue. Min's scent was intoxicating, and Poppy inhaled deeply, settling into a slow, rocking rhythm, moving her tongue up and down and up again, feeling the slick wetness, her own body thrusting forward in tandem with her strokes, shivering in anticipation.

Min's breath was beginning to hitch and her fingers were clenching, sure signs that she was about to come. Poppy felt close to the edge herself, so inflamed by righteous anger and passion and by the obvious pleasure of her beloved that she knew she'd soon explode.

"Ahhhh. . . ." keened Minerva, almost lifting off the bed with the force of her release, but Poppy didn't watch her the way she normally would have; she was too busy being engulfed by her own intense orgasm, the shudders running through her deliciously, more powerful even than her former rage.

When the mist cleared from her head, Poppy found herself lying in the spacious bed next to Minerva, their arms wrapped round each other, their legs cosily entwined. Her body felt wonderfully boneless enough to need an entire bottle of Skele-gro. This was shaping up to be one of the best Christmas Eves ever.

They lay in comfortable silence for several moments, until Minerva said, "Oh, by the way, I've told Dolores that I'm completely unavailable on Boxing Day."

"Hmph," said Poppy, as she felt sleep begin to steal over her. "Dolores who?"


End file.
